


I could hold you for a million years

by frostysunflowers



Series: Irondad Bingo [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Light Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vomiting, featuring sticky!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: ''I feel…really gross, Mister Stark,'' Peter moans, tilting into Tony’s hold and burying his face in Tony’s neck.''I know, kid,'' Tony replies, wincing again at the heat of Peter's skin. Part of him is rebelling against the situation, lurching up with rancid familiarity to tell him to step away, to get out –But then Peter sighs miserably against him and all that Tony feels then is the need to make it better.





	I could hold you for a million years

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, coming at you with a big ol' dose of fluff with a sprinkle of angst all wrapped up in a pretty sickfic bow! 
> 
> Warning for one or two instances of vomiting but aside from that, all should be well. 
> 
> Set post civil war, all the rogues are still on the run, but Bruce and Thor are not off-world. 
> 
> I've never really written a sickfic before so hopefully this is okay! Enjoy!

The early evening sky above the city is an angry kind of dark. Not an inch of the clear blue skies from earlier that day can be seen. Instead, thick clouds hang heavy over the skyscrapers and sheets of rain wash over the world, blurring everything into a haze of muffled light and sluggish movement. Powerful rumbles of thunder ripple through the air with the odd deafening bang thrown in here and there which seem to make the very windows of the tower shake.

Tony stares out at it, then looks to his left to glare at the demi-god standing next to him.

''This your doing?''

Thor turns to him. ''I cannot control the weather,'' he replies bemusedly.

Tony snorts. ''Don’t give me that. I remember what happened the last time you visited.''

Thor blanches. ''That was an accident.''

''Oh, sure. An accident that had me replacing half the electronics in the kitchen because your little temper tantrum fried everything.’’

''It was not – '' Thor pauses, inhaling sharply, before his face takes on a wounded look. ''I did not mean to.''

Tony whines. ''Don’t go all kicked puppy on me, Point Break.''

A boom of thunder cuts across the sky, making Tony jump and Thor grin impishly.

''That’s it.'' Tony points a threatening finger at him. ''Just for that, you don’t get to play with the kid when he arrives.''

Thor looks absolutely heartbroken at the notion. There’s another growl of thunder, only this time it’s softer, moodier. Tony rolls his eyes at his friend and claps Thor on the shoulder just as the elevator announces its arrival.

''Ah, there he is,'' Tony says, only just dodging Thor as he hurries over excitedly to greet Peter as he steps into the room.

''It is good to see you, young Peter!'' Thor declares, sweeping the boy up into an embrace that has the kid letting out a startled laugh. ''Even if you are soaking wet.''

Tony frowns, realising that Thor’s right. The kid is absolutely sodden. His jacket is dark with water and thick drips of rain linger on the curls of his hair that aren’t plastered to his head. There’s a horrible squelching sound as his sneakers brush against the floor.

All in all, he looks like he decided to take a swim with his clothes on.

''Kid? What the hell?'' Tony says as he marches towards him. ''I thought Happy was picking you up?''

''Traffic was bad,'' Peter explains, wincing as he slides his backpack off, holding it awkwardly to the side as a steady trickle of water falls from one of the straps, ''so I said I’d make my own way here.''

''And Happy just agreed to that?''

A tiny smile appears on Peter’s face. ''S’not like he could do much about it really, Mister Stark, being stuck in his car and all.''

Tony’s retort is cut off by a furious sneeze from Peter. As the kid scrubs a wet sleeve under his nose, Tony frowns, concern slowly beginning to bubble up inside him as he gets a better look at Peter.

The kid looks terrible. His skin is pale and the end of his nose is bright red. His eyes are watery and bloodshot and Tony suspects that the shivering of his shoulders isn’t just due to the fact that he’s drenched right through. There’s a distinctive wheezing sound that makes itself known each time Peter takes a short, stunted breath.

''Are you sick?'' Tony demands, pointing a finger at him. Thor’s eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion even as Peter shakes his head in protest.

''N-no!'' he croaks, waving the hand that isn’t holding the backpack. ''I’m just…cold! Y-yeah, from being out in the rain and…yeah.''

Tony knows that Peter can tell that he isn’t buying it. Another loud sneeze has his eyes narrowing pointedly at him and Peter immediately shrinks under his stare.

''Go and get warm, kid,'' Tony tells him, making a shooing motion. ''Shower, dry clothes, hot drink.''

Peter nods and scurries away, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake as he squelches his way out of the room. Tony watches him go, a thoughtful and somewhat uneasy look on his face.

He’s never dealt with a sick kid before. Hell, he’s never really dealt with a sick _anybody _before. His knowledge in the matter extends to buying painkillers and Gatorade for a hungover Rhodey in college and offering meek words of encouragement to Pepper when she caught a stomach bug in the first month of their relationship and spent almost an entire day throwing her guts up in the bathroom, snapping at him to stay away when she knew full well he had no intention of getting too close in the first place. The woman was a powerhouse and steamed through every cold she had with a terrifying stubbornness that had Tony steering well clear until she was germ-free.

Plus, his ability to take care of himself in similar circumstances isn’t exactly great.

So the idea of being in the presence of an unwell Peter sparks an odd sort of fear within him.

Somehow, Tony is considered a responsible figure in the life of Peter Parker. Sure, he does the whole mentor deal but that extends primarily to the Spider-Man side of things. With the Peter side of things, it’s a different story. He’s already in deeper than he ever expected to be. The odd day out here and there, picking up the kid on a Friday after school so he can stay over at the tower, allowing for an early start down in the lab the next morning, assuming they didn’t stay up late tinkering the night before.

He’s seen the looks on Pepper and Rhodey's faces when he and Peter are together. Small smiles when Tony ruffles Peter’s hair, knowing looks when Peter smiles shyly whenever Tony calls him by a nickname; Pepper had even cooed once when she had come home to find the two of them sharing a bowl of popcorn whilst watching Aliens in their pyjamas. Well, Peter in his ridiculous Chewbacca onesie that Ned had given him for Christmas and Tony in a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie.

Hell, even May Parker can't hide the happy smiles on the occasions Tony stops by their apartment and finds himself with bubbles up to his elbows as he and Peter wash up after dinner. 

So yeah, okay, Tony cares about the kid. It’s hard not to with his big brown eyes, the endearing enthusiasm he has for nearly everything and his awkward, kind nature that has Tony smiling fondly more than he’d ever admit.

This, however, is completely uncharted territory. For all the undeniable fondness that Tony feels for Peter, none of it offers him any insight in what to do in this sort of situation. He considers calling Pepper, or even Rhodey, but something stubborn in him prevents him from doing so.

He can handle this. He’s Iron Man, he's Tony fucking Stark - he can handle anything.

''Banner tells me that soup is good for such ailments,'' Thor says brightly, startling Tony out of his thoughts. ''Should I make young Peter some?''

The idea of Thor attempting to cook anything in the kitchen nearly gives Tony a mild heart attack and he quickly bustles his friend in the direction of the television, hoping the promise of an overly dramatic action movie will be enough of a distraction to keep his kitchen from being destroyed.

* * *

Just over an hour later, after a particularly violent coughing fit that has Peter clutching the workbench for support, Tony admits defeat.

''Okay, Underoos. Enough of this. You’re clearly sick.''

Peter sinks into his chair with a muffled groan, wiping his streaming nose on the cuff of his hoodie. If he looked terrible earlier, he looks even worse now and Tony can’t stop himself from panicking a little, can’t quite fight the urge to run, because he is just so not equipped to deal with this sort of thing.

''I’ll get Happy to take you home,'' Tony says, reaching for his phone. ''He should have cleared that traffic by now. And then lovely Aunt May can take care of you. Feed you soup, dab your face with a cold cloth, y’know, all that jazz,'' he rambles as he flicks through in search of May’s number. ''Sound good?''

A lack of response has Tony looking up at Peter. The kid is staring at the floor, his breath coming in odd little huffs with the odd wet sniff mixed in amongst them.

''Pete?''

''May’s, um…she’s not at home.''

Tony frowns. ''Where is she?''

''Connecticut. Some training thing for work. She left this morning.''

''She left you alone even though you’re sick?''

Peter shakes his head. ''I didn’t tell her.''

Tony palms his forehead with a groan. ''Of course you didn’t.''

Peter stands, a look of hurt clear on his face. ''S’okay, I can take care of myself. I’ll go get my stuff.''

The dejected tone of his raspy voice floods Tony with guilt. ''Hey, kid, no, I didn’t mean – ''

''It’s fine, Mister Stark,'' Peter waves a hand at him as he begins to shuffle past. ''I’ll just – ''

He gasps harshly as another bout of coughing overtakes him. Tony wastes no time in pushing Peter back down into his chair, holding the kid by the shoulders as he tries to steady his breathing.

''How long you been feeling like this, Pete?''

Peter’s blush is visible even beneath the redness left behind from the coughing. ''Uh…since last night, I guess.''

Tony closes his eyes briefly. ''And you thought it would be a good idea to go walking in the rain when you know you’re sick?’’

Peter pouts. ''Wasn’t walking.''

''Hey, not the point,'' Tony says firmly. ''Why didn’t you just call and cancel?''

Peter looks away from him, seeming to shrink before his very eyes. Tony fights the urge to yell at Peter for his lack of self-preservation and at himself for being such an asshole.

Because he knows why the kid didn't cancel. There’s only one reason Peter would still show up here even when he’s sick.

Because Peter wants to spend time with him.

And here he is, giving the kid a hard time and trying to pack him off.

Tony sniffs, lip twitching up with the movement.

Time to sack up.

Reluctantly shoving his earlier stubbornness aside, Tony calls in the artillery.

''FRI, put me through to Rhodey.''

_''Sure thing, boss.''_

The lab is silent for about twenty seconds, save for Peter’s laboured breathing, before Rhodey’s voice comes through.

_''If you’re calling to finally tell me what you want for dinner, two hours after I asked for your suggestions, it’s too late, man. I already got Italian.''_

''Yeah, that’s great, listen,'' Tony replies, looking warily at Peter as he sneezes into the sleeve of his hoodie. ''I need you pick up some soup.''

_''Soup? Tones, I just told you – ''_

''And orange juice, and whatever vitamins you can get your hands on. Pepper swears by that Echinacea stuff.''

Peter coughs harshly and lets out a weak groan.

''And cough drops. Definitely cough drops.''

_''Are you sick?’' _Rhodey asks after another beat of silence._ ''You don’t sound sick.''_

''Not me,'' Tony says, rolling his eyes even though Rhodey can’t see. ''The kid.''

_''Peter?''_

Tony stares incredulously at the ceiling. ''Are you having an episode or something, Rhodes? You seem slower than usual. Yes_, _Peter, who else?''

_''I don’t know! This is hardly a normal conversation – ''_

''Oops, sorry, sour patch, connection’s cutting out, see you soon!''

He ends the call to the sound of Rhodey’s cussing him out and has FRIDAY patch him through to Bruce’s lab.

_''Not now, Tony, I’m – ''_

''Brucie-bear, we got any of those super intense painkillers lying around?''

There’s a pause. ''Y_ou mean the stuff we always used for Steve?''_

The name makes Tony flinch. ''Yeah.''

_''Sure. But I wouldn’t advise you taking any, Tony. One pill would knock you out for a week.''_

Tony clenches his fist, beyond fed up with having to spell things out in detail. ''Just grab whatever you’ve got and meet me upstairs in five.''

Bruce splutters in frustration. _''Tony, I’m in the middle of an experiment, quite literally, I can’t just – ''_

Tony knuckles the space between his eyebrows. ''Soon as you can then.''

He cuts off the connection, vowing to make up for his abruptness later, and turns his attention back to Peter. He’s trembling now even as he visibly sweats.

''C’mon, kiddo,'' Tony says, meeting Peter’s eyes when he looks up at him uncertainly. ''Let’s get outta here, okay?''

Peter nods meekly and starts to follow him, only to stumble as one of his feet bumps the wheel of Tony’s chair, sending him stumbling into Tony’s back. He catches himself by slapping one hand against Tony’s left shoulder blade and unleashes six huge sneezes in a row. Tony grimaces as he hears the distinctive sound of mucus being snivelled back up.

''Okay, kid?''

''Y-yeah,'' Peter whispers, coughing weakly. ''Sorry.''

Tony gives a wave of his hand and starts to walk forward again, only to pause when he notices that Peter’s hand is still touching his back.

''Pete? You need help walking?''

He turns to look at Peter and frowns as Peter follows his movement. Tony cranes his neck to look back at him. 

''Is this some sort of millennial thing I don’t know about?'' Tony sighs wearily.

''I’m Gen Z,'' Peter mutters, flexing his fingers against Tony’s back.

''Whatever,'' Tony rolls his eyes, ''you gonna let go?''

''I’m sticky.''

Tony snorts. ''Yeah, kid, I think we established that from all the times I’ve found you hanging out on my ceiling.''

''No,'' Peter groans weakly, ''I mean I’m stuck. I’m sticking to you.''

He pulls the hand on Tony’s shoulder upwards, tugging Tony's shirt up with it. He gives a few short pulls but his palm remains in contact with the fabric.

''Okaaay...'' Tony drawls, turning as much as he can to face Peter. The position shifts into an awkward one armed hold that brings Peter’s face close to Tony’s chest. Up close, the sweat on his skin and the soreness around his nose is vivid and the heat coming off him makes Tony wince.

''Jeez, Underoos,'' he says as he awkwardly bends an arm and lifts a hand to Peter’s forehead, ''you’re really on fire.''

Peter leans into his touch, closing his eyes and sighing a little at the coolness of Tony’s palm against his skin. When he opens his eyes again, Tony’s stomach plummets at the sight of the sheen of tears glistening within them.

It speaks volumes about how rough the kid is feeling and a rush of sympathy for him flows through Tony. Peter coughs again, eyes going wide as he sways to the side and Tony knows it’s pointless to try and get him to walk any further. Adjusting his position a little, he crouches down to the floor, arms extended out behind him.

''Hop on, kid.''

''W-what?'' Peter laughs shortly. ''Are you crazy?''

''Please,'' Tony scoffs, ''don’t you know eccentric is a much more fashionable description? Now come on, before my legs give out and I end up forced to admit my age.''

''I can walk – ''

''Pete,'' Tony sighs, twisting his head to look at him. ''You can barely stand, you’re already stuck to me, so let’s just get on with it, hm? Besides,'' he adds with a grin, ''it’s not every day you get a piggyback from Iron Man.''

''You’re not Iron Man right now,'' Peter grumbles as he hooks his other arm over Tony’s shoulder and hops up, Tony’s arms lifting automatically to encircle his legs even though he knows the kid's stickiness is enough to keep him attached. 

''Still saving your little snotty self, aren’t I?'' Tony retorts, groaning as he stands up. Peter isn’t exactly heavy and manages to distribute his weight evenly enough, but Tony’s not as young as he pretends to be, and his back makes a point of twinging sharply as a reminder.

He stumbles into the elevator and manages to make it to the penthouse floor without too much trouble. They step into the kitchen to find Thor sitting in one of the chairs at the counter, chewing on a stick of celery and chuckling at something in the book that he’s reading. He looks up as they approach and his eyebrows lift in interest.

''Is this another Earth custom I’ve yet to be introduced to?'' he queries, rising to come and get a closer look.

Tony shoves him away, earning a moan from Peter as the movement jostles him. ''Oh sure, we regularly carry scrawny teenagers on our backs around here,'' he deadpans, ''surprised you haven’t come across such a sight already!''

Thor looks thoroughly confused. Tony waves him off and moves towards the sitting area, praying that Bruce’s appearance with the meds is imminent.

''Mister Stark…'' Peter’s foreboding tone has Tony freezing, ''…I'm feeling a bit sick…''

''Oh, jeez, kid, just – '' Tony scrambles towards the kitchen sink, twirling to the side and leaning over so that the kid’s head is hanging over it. He topples precariously as Peter heaves against his back and scrambles for purchase against the counter, fingers slipping along the smooth surface.

''Oh shi – ''

A hand grips his arm and he lets out a sigh of relief, giving Thor a grateful grimace as the god steadies him, peering past him with concern at Peter.

There’s a groan and Tony winces as Peter gasps wetly.

''How we doing, kid?''

A heavy shudder goes straight through him as Peter gags harshly and leans further over, tilting Tony’s torso with him.

''Pete?''

Another groan and then the sound of liquid hitting stainless steel in a gushing wave. Thor’s alarmed gaze meets Tony’s as the kid moans under the force of the sensation, spitting loudly and only managing to draw in a shaky breath before he’s overcome again. Tony winces as fingers dig fiercely into his skin.

''It’s okay, kiddo,'' Tony assures, voice unusually gentle as he reaches back to awkwardly pat Peter’s side. ''Just get it out.''

''Is this normal for you Midgardians?'' Thor asks in a loud whisper, eyes going wide with worry as Peter retches again.

Tony gives his best attempt at a shrug, stumbling again as Peter’s body convulses. ''Eh. Depends who you’re asking.''

''Who should I be asking?''

''Definitely not Rhodey,'' Tony replies gruffly. ''The man tells nothing but slanderous lies.''

''He does?'' Thor’s expression turns bewildered. ''I always thought the Colonel was – ''

He’s cut off by a quiet sniffle that leads into a hushed sob. A warmth presses into Tony’s shoulder and he twists to look at the crown of Peter’s head.

''Kid?''

He can feel Peter trembling against his back. He whimpers softly and twitches the fingers of the hand resting on Tony’s shoulder.

''…M’sorry, Mister Stark,'' Peter mumbles hoarsely.

Tony’s insides wrench with a funny sort of ache that seems to wind its way into his arms, making them thrum with the unfamiliar yet undeniable urge to hold the kid.

His wish is granted as Peter suddenly detaches bodily from him, crumpling halfway to the floor before Tony’s able to spin and catch him. He hoists Peter up against his chest, holding him tightly as Peter sluggishly hugs him round the neck. He smells of vomit and every inch of him is drenched in sweat but Tony doesn’t even think of letting go.

He hears the tap running and Thor appears next to him with a glass of water.

''Hey, buddy,'' Tony eases the kid away a little so he can look at Peter’s face. He blinks blearily up at Tony with tired eyes. He looks so startlingly young, so vulnerable and miserable. Tony unthinkingly lifts a hand to cup his cheek, a thumb brushing against the wetness beneath his left eye.

''Sorry,'' Peter mutters again as he accepts the glass of water and takes a small sip. His face immediately creases, like he’s trying not to fully cry. ''Sorry, Mister Stark.''

''Hey, none of that,'' Tony orders, giving Peter what he hopes is an encouraging smile. ''I’ve done much worse myself over the years.''

''I can attest to that, young Peter,'' Thor says, eager to help, ''I remember one time when the Avengers attended a spectacular gala at the – ''

''No time for stories, big guy,'' Tony interrupts, already feeling his stomach rebel at the mere memory of the ridiculous alcohol consumption that evening had involved, not to mention the rather embarrassing position he’d woken up in with Bruce and Clint the following morning.

''I feel…really gross, Mister Stark,'' Peter moans, tilting into Tony’s hold and burying his face in Tony’s neck.

''I know, kid,'' Tony replies, wincing again at the heat of Peter’s skin. Part of him is rebelling against the situation, lurching up with rancid familiarity to tell him to step away, to get out –

But then Peter sighs miserably against him and all that Tony feels then is the need to make it better.

''C’mon, kiddo,'' Tony guides Peter out of the kitchen and towards the couches, instructing Thor to grab something that can be used in the event of the kid throwing up again. Peter follows along willingly, sniffing thickly as Tony sets his water on the table, plants him into a bundle of cushions and grabs a throw to drape over him. Peter burrows into the warmth immediately, peering up at Tony tiredly over the edge of the throw. His left eye twitches in the corner and Tony frowns, noticing the crease in the space between Peter’s eyebrows.

''Headache?''

Peter nods, no strength to pretend otherwise. Tony moves closer and lowers a hand to rest against the base of Peter’s neck, fingers kneading a soft rhythm that has Peter drooping with boneless relief.

''Wow…'' he practically purrs, head tipping forward to give Tony better access, drawing a tiny smile from the man.

He’s never seen Peter like this before. For as open as the kid is, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, Tony knew that he tried to reign himself in whenever they were together, as though he was afraid that Tony wouldn’t approve. So to see him this vulnerable, this willing to receive the awkward comfort that Tony offers is something that both warms and saddens Tony.

Tony’s reluctance to let the kid get close was never about Peter, because despite his best efforts, he couldn’t deny that the kid had managed to breach his defences a long time ago. The hesitancy for a connection came from Tony’s own issues born out of a childhood void of support, a life full of bad impressions and judgement and a fear of making the same mistakes that his own father had made; a fear of being gifted something precious and wonderful and turning it into something dark and ruined.

Broken.

When Peter looks at Tony though, he doesn’t see what Tony sees. There’s always a blinding warmth in his eyes, a steadfast trust that makes Tony both want to be better and run for the hills.

Peter tips back into his touch, cracking open an eye to look up at him, and Tony knows for certain that even if he tried to run, he wouldn’t get very far.

''Where’d you learn that?'' Peter slurs, arching his neck as Tony presses a thumb into the spot behind his ear.

Tony smiles wistfully. ''Little something Rhodey used to do for me back in college,'' he says just as the elevator doors open, revealing the man himself. At the same time, a loud crash rings out as several pots and pans topple out of a cupboard onto Thor’s head. The demi-god looks around in dismay before seizing one and lifting it above his head in triumph.

Tony looks over at Rhodey who quirks an eyebrow.

''You know, I don’t usually do house calls,'' he teases with a smirk.

Tony rolls his eyes as he reluctantly gets up and moves towards him. ''Yes, you’re a real hero, honeybear.''

''Damn straight,'' Rhodey says loftily as he sets the grocery bag and takeout on the kitchen counter. ''I expect a medal and a ceremony on account of how I got soaking wet getting all this stuff,'' he adds, gesturing to his rain-spattered jacket for emphasis. 

''You would,'' Tony grumbles, grabbing the bag to peer inside. The pleasant scent of chicken noodle soup hits his nose and he hums appreciatively before unpacking everything.

''How’s he doing?'' Rhodey asks, looking over in the direction of the couches.

''Well, he’s an enhanced teenage boy who happens to be sick,'' Tony replies, studying the package of cough drops. ''It’s hardly a winning combination.'' He gives the box a shake. ''Cherry? Are you kidding me?''

''It was either that or lemon,'' Rhodey says defensively. ''Besides, maybe Peter's not as picky as you.''

''I am _not – ''_

''Oh please,'' Rhodey laughs, moving obligingly out of the way as Thor rushes past with his pot, ''you really wanna go there? Man, you’re the biggest pain in the ass when you’re sick.''

At the word sick, the sound of retching meets their ears.

''Damn it,'' Tony mutters, hurrying over to where Peter is hunched over the pot, groaning while Thor sympathetically pats his back.

''Get it out, my young friend,'' Thor encourages, ''you’ll feel much better for it.''

Peter hurls again, shoulders shuddering under the strain.

''Looks like I’m arriving at just the right time.''

Tony looks up to see Bruce, looking weary and rumpled in his lab coat, heading towards them. He catches Tony’s eye and shakes a white bottle at him. The rattling of the pills inside carries an odd source of comfort.

Bruce frowns in sympathy and kneels beside Peter as he finally raises his head. His pink cheeks flush a deep red as he glances around at the occupants of the room, realising that he’s the centre of attention. His breath hitches wetly and Tony locks on instantly to the way he hunches in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible around the pot that is now trembling in his hands.

''Bruce, do what you gotta do,'' Tony murmurs to the doctor before snapping his fingers at Thor. ''Hey, big guy, why don’t you see if you can find the old man and take our dear Colonel down to the gym to see the new training course?'' He throws a smirk over his shoulder at Rhodey. ''He’s been _dying _to try it out.''

''Certainly!'' Thor looks delighted by the notion. He gives Peter a gentle pat on the shoulder and steps towards Rhodey who sends Tony a poisonous glare that promises revenge before letting himself be dragged from the room, only just managing to grab a tub of the takeout as he goes.

''Love you, honeybear!'' Tony singsongs and blows him a kiss before turning back to Peter just as he finishes taking a sip of water, the glass being held to his lips with Bruce’s help.

''Bruce?''

The man looks up at Tony and gives him a tired but genuine smile.

''With any luck, he should be over the worst of it by tomorrow evening,'' he says, placing the glass back on the table, moving the pot to the side and pushing Peter back into the cushions, ''but the meds should make things a bit easier for him until then.''

Tony blows out a breath, eyes on Peter as he snuggles back under the throw, looking exhausted and about a minute away from bursting into tears.

Bruce claps Tony on the shoulder. ''Try and get him to eat something because ideally he shouldn’t be taking those on an empty stomach but,'' Bruce gives an easy shrug, ''I think he’ll cope. Otherwise, sleep is the best thing for him.''

Tony nods and gives Bruce’s arm a grateful squeeze as the man leaves, taking the pot with him to wash out, before sitting next to Peter on the couch. His thigh brushes the toes of Peter’s left foot and the kid instantly moves to retract it, letting out a gasp as Tony grabs hold. His thumb brushes firmly over the instep, fingers locking round gently.

''What do you say, Underoos? Think you can manage a bit of soup and some juice?''

Peter shakes his head, looking so apologetic that it makes Tony’s chest hurt.

''You’re gonna have to help me out here, kiddo,'' he says softly, '''cause I don’t know what spider-babies like to do when they’re sick.''

Peter shrugs. ''Um…May just usually sits with me, watches a movie with me…'' he shifts uncomfortably like there’s more but he doesn’t want to say.

''And?'' Tony coaxes, giving his foot an encouraging pat.

''She…she gives me hugs sometimes,'' Peter points to his unruly mess of hair, ''and Ben…Ben would play with my hair.''

A thought dawns on Tony. He knows the details of Ben’s death, knows that it didn’t happen too long before he and Peter met, and he wonders if this is the first time the kid has been sick since that day.

Suddenly, the remaining traces of reluctance and resistance vanish from within Tony’s mind, swapping out for a fierce surge of protectiveness, a rock-solid kind of determination that seems to fill every inch of him. He’s never been one for physical comfort, or at least that’s what he tells himself. But he thinks of all the lonely nights kept at bay by Rhodey’s strong embraces during college, the shy pats to the shoulder from Bruce and bone cracking hugs from Thor that would go a long way to halting the darkness of his mind, how his worries could always be quieted by the scent and feel of Pepper’s hair tickling his face when she kissed him, and he knows that the truth of the matter is that without a reassuring touch, without the comfort offered by those that matter, he’d struggle too.

Tony looks at Peter and feels all that he’s been holding back flare into life, not a slow blossoming but a bright blooming burst that has him reaching out to the kid, needing to channel the feeling before he explodes with it.

''Come here, kiddo.''

Peter blinks at him. ''Huh?''

Tony extends an arm pointedly. ''Get over here. I need something to hold whilst we watch whatever terrifyingly cheesy movie your nerdy little heart desires.''

Peter frowns, looking adorably ruffled and confused. ''You…wanna cuddle me?''

Tony nearly flinches at the word. Nearly.

''Sure, hug, cuddle, whatever. It involves all the same mechanics, right? So,'' he waves his arm again, ''let’s get on with it.''

To his great surprise, Peter huddles further into the cushions and shakes his head.

''Don’t wanna get stuck to you again.''

Tony raises an eyebrow. ''You wound me, kid. Am I that bad?''

''No, Mister Stark!'' Peter croaks and, to Tony’s absolute dismay, starts to cry. He can tell it’s an involuntary reaction from the horror and embarrassment on the kid’s face. ''I just d-didn’t want to be any more of a b-burden – ''

He lets out a startled yelp as Tony reaches over and pulls him into a hug, shuffling close to that Peter is pressed fully against his chest with his face buried in Tony's neck. Tony winds one arm around his trembling back and lifts the other so that he has a hand resting in Peter’s curls. He trails his fingers through them in a slow, steady path along with the hand now rubbing across Peter's shoulders. 

''You’re not a burden,'' he whispers against Peter’s temple, ''never a burden, got it?''

Tony kept both of his hands moving, keeping his hold firm as Peter’s cries gradually fade away, leaving him slumped tiredly in Tony’s arms. His fingers hooked themselves into the edges of Tony’s shirt and Tony smiles into the kid’s hair.

''I’m sor – ''

''Underoos, that word doesn’t exist anymore, okay? Except for when you _actually_ need to be sorry and trust me,'' Tony tightens his hold, ''you’ve got nothing to be sorry for right now.''

The tension in Peter’s shoulders seeps out and he relaxes into Tony, moving his head so that it’s resting just beneath Tony’s chin.

''Okay,'' he mumbles and Tony feels relief at the hint of sleepiness he can hear in the kid’s voice.

He knows the pain meds should kick in properly soon but Tony so desperately wants Peter to feel better, to go back to his normal bright and bouncy self, that he’s willing to do all that he can to help the kid along.

''You wanna watch a movie now? I won’t complain that much, I swear.''

Peter nuzzles into Tony’s shirt and hums in thought. ''Tired,'' he slurs.

Well, that answered that.

Tony racks his brain, still carding his fingers through Peter’s curls, pulling them out softly and letting them spring back into place with each pass of his hand. 

''I’ve not told you the story about Rhodey and me both getting the flu over Christmas break, have I?''

Peter shakes his head. ''Don’t think so.''

Tony chuckles, carefully wriggling around so that he can get comfortable without having to move Peter too much. ''It wasn’t fun, especially for Rhodey’s poor mom who ended up having to take care of us.'' He shakes his head fondly at the memory.

''D’you at leas’ get to open stuff?'' Peter asks, heartbeat slowing against Tony’s ribs.

''It was a few days before we could even stand, kiddo, let alone think about presents.'' Tony scratches Peter’s scalp.''Pretty sure I hallucinated Santa coming through the window at one point.''

Peter hums something that could be considered a laugh and Tony feels the grip on his shirt begin to slacken.

''It’s okay to sleep, Underoos,'' Tony says, dropping his voice to a low murmur, letting it reverberate in his chest, ''I’m here, you’re okay.''

Peter twitches, almost like he wants to fight the sleepiness taking hold of him, but he doesn’t reply. Tony drops the hand in Peter’s curls to the base of the kid’s neck, massaging the tightness away just like he had done earlier.

''Everything’s okay,'' Tony murmurs, resting his head on Peter’s hair, ''you’ll feel better in the morning, kiddo, and then we can make up for all this lousiness by having a day down in the lab, yeah? Blow up some stuff mad scientist style. We can even ask Bruce to join us. What d’ya think, kid?''

Peter snores softly and Tony smiles in triumph, letting his own eyes fall shut. He stays awake for a while, long enough to hear Rhodey’s distinctive footfalls come into the kitchen and the sounds of things being put away in the fridge; long enough to memorise the pattern of Peter’s heartbeats and count the seconds between each congested breath; long enough to realise that he’s more than okay with all of this, that he _wants _all of this_, _before eventually drifting off into a warm, peaceful sleep.

He stirs later that night when a hand brushes through his hair. The scent of coconut tickles his nose and he smiles before even opening his eyes.

''Pep…''

''Hi,'' she says quietly, hovering above him over the back of the couch, looking soft and radiant in the dim lighting of the room. ''You okay?''

''Mm,'' he replies, eyes falling shut again, ''kid’s sick.''

''I heard.'' Her hand continues to drag through his hair as he adjusts his hold on Peter. The kid grumbles lowly before snuggling into Tony’s side, arm draping loosely across Tony’s stomach. Tony fumbles a hand up to Peter’s forehead and audibly sighs in relief as he feels nothing but cool, sweaty skin.

''He’s so good for you,'' Pepper whispers above him and Tony grunts, already half asleep again.

''S’makin’ me soft,'' he complains as he turns his face into Peter’s hair.

A tender, loving kiss presses against his cheek. ''You’ve always been soft, Tony,'' Pepper says, her words clearly spoken with a smile, ''he just makes you unafraid to show it, that’s all.''

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3 find me on tumblr @frostysunflowers if you wanna chat!


End file.
